Irritated Iguana

So I decided to continue these posts with the animal alliterations. I think they're fun. This time I'm irritated. And I'm an iguana because they're slow-moving reptiles, and no matter how hard I've tried to get my life back to normal, things keep coming up to slowwwww me down from accomplishing things. But Mercury's in retrograde, so what can I say.

Today is Wednesday. And it took me 1.5 hours to get to work because traffic was a nightmare. Again. Seems like what used to be a nightmare commute is turning out to be the norm. Which really beats on one's patience. Especially mine.

To add to my ongoing irritation as of late, I was cleaning the apartment last week and in the process of being irritated and lazy, decided to stuff a whole jar of pickled carrots (sliced) down the garbage disposal in the sink. Not a good idea. I clogged the thing, whined, cleared it via telephone advice from my mother, and left it alone. Only to discover the next day that yes, I cleared the disposal, but the drain was clogged. So after a few days I poured Liquid Plumber down there. And then a few days later tried baking soda and vinegar. And entertained the idea of buying a cheap plunger and having at it. But instead I wrote a note to the apartment manager asking for her to call a plumber with a snake. OH SIGH. So now we're waiting for the plumber. But the manager couldn't get a hold of him, and now the owner of the apartment complex is involved; and she's given out our number to her Roto Rooter man. Who hasn't called yet.

OH SIGHHHHHHHH. I'm mad at myself because I caused it. Stupid me. And Rick's stupid pickled carrots. That he didn't even eat more than two pieces of because he said they tasted funny. Like pickled carrots would. Sheesh! ;)

Went to the library yesterday after work because there was a book sale going on. Got lucky with parking but when I went into the library, I couldn't find where the sale was. I knew it was upstairs... but the stairs going up to the children's library was closed off. I wandered around, found some GRE books that I was going to check out, and tried to find any stairwells and elevators. Nope. I was close to asking someone for directions (gasp!). I went back out towards the staircase I'd first seen and saw someone come out of the doors, so I decidedly ignored the "DO NOT ENTER" and "PAINTING IN PROGRESS" signs and went in. Smelly, yes, but I was determined to get to the book sale. And no one ran me down to stop me. At the top of the stairs, and into the children's department was a backwards sign that said "CLOSED," taped across the door frame. Oops. So I definitely wasn't supposed to be in that stairwell. I waited a few moments for the librarian in there to turn away, and snuck underneath the sign. I felt like a rule breaker! God forbid. Walked down the hallway and the sale was there, being held in what they called the "auditorium." And I thought, How did people get up here?! And then I saw the stairwell across from the auditorium and thought... Hmmmm. I guess there's a stairwell on the opposite side of the building where I walked in. DUH. Irritation.

Anyways, I went in and pored through the aisles of paperbacks and hardcovers, fiction and nonfiction, children's books, CDs and cassettes, textbooks and reference volumes, and found... wait for it... MUSIC books. I was floored. Literally, since the boxes were on the ground. (HAHAHAHA... ahem) Four heaping boxes of classical piano music books, brand spankin new, stuff that I used to pay an arm and a leg for every year depending on what my piano teacher had planned for me that year according to my level's standards. There were no signs saying how much the books cost, but I didn't care. Couldn't have been that much anyways because "small books" were 25 cents, "medium books" were 50 cents, and "large books" were $1. How do you distinguish what's what by that description anyways???

I squatted there in my 4 inch espadrilles and dress (ARGHH) and picked out a few choice books before finally having to get up and stretch out my toes and calves. Sheesh. Of all days for me to have decided to dress up for work. I made my way to the cashier after maybe an hour and the music books cost... wait for it... wait for it.... TWENTY FIVE CENTS. Of course, while I was there, I overheard some awful 90 year old librarian who had her panties on too tight complaining about her student volunteers who weren't do anything. OH SIGHHHH. Why do some librarians give us a bad rep? Those kids were in there volunteering their weekday evening (albeit a requirement for graduation), staying out of trouble and off the streets, potentially missing dinner, and she didn't even give them specific instructions other than "clean up and make things look nice," so what else were they to do but mill about and chat? Can't expect everyone to be proactive, especially with a control-freak librarian in charge.

If she had said, "You - take charge of the nonfiction section by making sure that all the books are facing right side up and whenever there are gaps, fill them in with other nonfiction books that are on the floor underneath the tables. You - do the same with the reference books and children's books" the kids would have had something to do and been accountable for their areas. The librarian was being passive agressive towards the kids and I heard her complaining to the other librarians about two kids and said, "I don't want them here, they're not doing anything, they must be from the community service club, they're bad" and I wanted to protest. Or slap her. The other ladies, who were nicer and seemed to just tolerate this lady's rantings, told her to just send them home. Which she did by saying to them, "Just sign off and go home. There's not enough to do and there's too many people here." Not enough to do? Then why complain about them not doing anything??? Perhaps if she gave them something to do, they'd do it, and then there would be things do to. ARGHHHH. Obviously, this lady had issues.

I even heard one of them ask her what he could do to help and she replied, "you mean like clean up like I told you to do, which you didn't??" (I felt my eyes widen as I thought "Holy sh*t!") and there was a long pause from him before he replied, "...but you told me to go over there, so I couldn't finish here," and she bit back, "Yeah, okay, whatever."

Ten bucks this lady was the classic, stick-in-the-mud, old-maid librarian who never married or had kids. And obviously had a problem communicating with human beings. I was irritated.

Off my tirade.. anyways, I was irritated. Again. Because although I made out like a bandit with my $3.25 armful of books, I sat in the Del Taco drive-through for FORTY MINUTES. I could have driven to my sister's house 30 miles away and had dinner there in 40 minutes. By the time I made it up to the one and only window, I was soo peeved (but not enough to leave), but as I looked into the face of the nice lady who was running around inside with two other workers, I couldn't be mad. She was trying her best and moving as fast as she could (and she was a hefty lady). She got my order right, gave me the right change, gave me a zillion packets of mild hot sauce, and was still nice to me, so I couldn't yell at her for the line being slow even if I'd really wanted to. I wished her a nice evening and she smiled and said, "Thank you for waiting."

Who can be irritated when someone else who should be irritated smiles and says, "Thanks"?